Trinity Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)

Sermons 

Title: "A Window on God’s Love"

Text: Mark 15:1-39

I think I’ve mentioned before that, as a child,

I attended kindergarten at the Lutheran church …

And we had chapel every morning,

in which we sang real hymns, not kiddie songs …

And we learned all about the church year,

about what colors went with what seasons,

and why you didn’t sing "alleluia" during Lent,

and just what was Lent, anyway.

Well, I had seen most of that in my own church,

but nobody had explained it to me.

I was fascinated.

And I was probably just about the most liturgical five-year-old

on the entire planet.

But one thing I never did understand,

though I think they tried to explain it:

Why is that last Friday in Lent called "Good" Friday?

That was the day they crucified Jesus!

What could possibly be good about that?!

He died on that Friday.

Does any human being refer to the anniversary of a loved one’s death

as "Good Monday,"

or "Good April 23," or whatever?!

Who would do such a thing?

Even as a child,

with no real experience of death,

somehow, that just seemed wrong to me.

Have you ever come across the children’s book, by Judith Viorst,

called "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day"?

It has always seemed to me

that the last Friday in Lent should be called

"Terrible Horrible No-Good Very Bad Friday."

Human beings conspired together to murder the son of God.

What could possibly be any less "good" than that?

And yet … and yet …

Jesus could have gotten out of the whole thing, you know.

We hear in several of the gospels that, finally,

after preaching and teaching for some time in the countryside,

he "set his face" to go to Jerusalem.

He knew he would get into trouble there;

I suspect he knew that he would die there.

He was creating too much of a challenge

for both the religious leaders and the political leaders.

So, whether it ended up coming at the hands of

a religious fanatic of some kind,

or a hired assassin,

or a state-sponsored execution …

Jesus pretty much knew what was going to happen

if and when he dared to enter the holy city.

He could have said no.

But he didn’t.

Knowing that Judas was going to betray him,

he could have gone somewhere other than the garden;

he could have gone into hiding.

But he didn’t.

Questioned first by the high priest and then by Pilate,

Jesus could have defended himself,

could have challenged the false witnesses,

could have persuaded the crowd to defend him.

He didn’t.

On the cross,

he could have rescued himself;

surely that would be a simple matter for someone

who walks on the sea,

and calms violent storms,

and heals the sick,

and raises the dead from their tombs.

He didn’t.

He played his part

in the entire divine drama,

until he died.

Why?

What does it mean to us to know that

there is someone who loves us so much

that they would die for us?

Let’s not even start with God …

think first about family and friends and other loved ones.

What parent among us would not have

sacrificed their own life for their child’s,

if the choice had to be made?

How many soldiers have placed their own lives at risk

to protect their comrades,

not to mention their families back home?

We even hear of complete strangers who

rush to pull people out of burning cars,

snatch a child out of the middle of a busy street,

try to break up fights in which they have no stake.

We recognize that something within ourselves …

at least, within many of us …

something is able to overcome our instincts of self-preservation

in order to try to save the life of someone at risk.

Now …

Remember that God would do the same for you.

That God has, in fact,

done the same for you.

The cross is, for us,

a window through which we can see God’s love.

It is the place at which we recognize that,

not only did God so love the world

that God sent Jesus Christ, the Son,

to save whoever believes in him …

God also so loved the world

that God, in Jesus Christ, died for us,

even for those who did not yet believe.

And although in our Protestant tradition

we tend to emphasize the empty cross

rather than the crucifixion itself, with Jesus still hanging there …

maybe for a brief period we really do need to contemplate

what it means that God was willing to suffer a horrible death

because God loves us.

If we really believe that,

how will it change us?

We know, of course, that Good Friday –

or, if you insist, Bad Friday –

is not the end of the story.

But it is important that we do not,

on our way to the resurrection,

just skip over the uncomfortable bits.

Notice how all of our windows except this one

show us God’s light shining from somewhere …

mostly from up above,

but in Easter’s case, from out of the empty tomb.

But see how that light of God is almost absent in the Lent window.

Just the cross, the blue-ish background,

the skull, and the crown of thorns.

With only the lightning in the upper corner

to remind us that God is going to have the last word,

but in this moment, does not.

Imagine yourself on that first awful Friday,

after the crucifixion,

before you know how the story is going to end.

It looks as if evil has won.

It looks as though darkness has triumphed over light.

Not only that,

but it may be coming after you next.

Even so,

the cross is not about the triumph of evil over good.

And it would not be,

even if the resurrection had never happened.

It is about God’s love for us …

a love so strong that it was willing to die, if that’s what it was going to take,

to try to rescue us from the power of death.

It is about God,

staring evil in the face,

to protect us from its awful power.

It is about God’s choice

to be faithful to us,

even though we are not always faithful to God.

The cross is, for us,

a window through which we see the love of God.

Even in its darkest moments,

it sheds light for us on a God who never lets us go.

Just as Jesus was not abandoned on the cross,

though it felt like abandonment to him in that moment …

so, too, we are never abandoned by God

even in those moments when we feel ourselves to be suffering alone.

The love of God is always shining for us,

shining through the cross,

and the one who gave his life there for us.

There is a good Friday coming.

May we be open to its message,

and to the promise it holds for us.

Amen.

© 2006 Julie Adkins (e-mail: DrJAdkins@trinitypresdallas.org)